Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 11 - Chapitre 20

Claimed by My Ex’s UncleChapter 11: Cold Metal on Wet ConcreteThe heavy black SUV screeched to a halt at a forty-five-degree angle, its high beams slicing through the sheets of rain and locking the Gulfstream’s stairs in a harsh, blinding glare.The jet engines whined in a deafening crescendo, spraying mist across the wet tarmac.Marcus flinched violently, shielding his eyes with his free hand while his other arm—bound by a steel cable to the heavy silver briefcase—jerked back. The two hired guards beside him instinctively reached inside their tailored coats, but before their hands could find leather, the doors of four back-up Vance security vehicles flew open in unison.Eight armed operatives in tactical suits spilled onto the concrete, weapons trained silently and motionless on the stairs.The standoff lasted less than three seconds. The two Sterling guards slowly backed up three steps, raising their bare hands into the rain, abandoning Marcus without a second thought." Traitors!

Claimed by My Ex’s UncleChapter 13: Blood in the WaterThe glass doors of the Sterling Group’s flagship tower in Midtown didn’t just open; they felt like they were holding back a tidal wave of panic.By nine in the morning, the rain had stopped, leaving Manhattan wrapped in a crisp, sharp chill. Inside the atrium, the marble floors echoed with the erratic, frantic footsteps of junior executives running between glass offices like rats on a sinking ship. The morning headlines had already broke: three of the Sterling family's primary offshore logistics entities had been frozen by federal regulators at midnight, and rumors of a massive insider trading indictment were spreading faster than grease on a hot engine.I walked through the lobby with my chin held high, my heels striking the marble in a steady, lethal rhythm that turned every head in the building.I wasn't wearing the soft pastels or quiet tailored suits I used to wear when I was just Marcus’s docile fiancée. Today, I wore a sha

Claimed by My Ex’s UncleChapter 15: Crown of AshesThe quiet after a total victory was always louder than the war itself.Inside the private residential wing of the penthouse, forty floors above the silenced boardroom, the evening sun bled a deep, dark crimson across the sky. The city below was still processing the earthquake that had rocked Wall Street—the complete collapse of the Sterling Group, the expulsion of Victoria Vance, and the formal announcement that Lorden Tech and Vance Global were merging into a single, unstoppable conglomerate.I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, a crystal glass of untouched amber liquor held loosely in my hand.I looked at my reflection. The blood-red blazer was gone, replaced by a simple black silk robe that fell loosely over my shoulders. My face looked paler in the twilight, but my eyes—the eyes that used to carry the lingering pain of Marcus’s betrayal—were clear, sharp, and totally unyielding.A pair of heavy, warm arms slid around my waist f

Claimed by My Ex’s UncleChapter 17: Sovereign RealmThe quiet of the sunrise over Upper Manhattan didn’t feel like peace. It felt like the heavy, loaded silence after a war where only one standing survivor was left to claim the high ground.From the floor-to-ceiling glass of Julian’s penthouse, the skyline looked almost fake—a grid of glass and steel bathed in gold, oblivious to the fact that two ancient financial empires had been completely dismantled in less than seventy-two hours.I stood near the glass, wrapped in one of Julian’s heavy black silk robes, a hot mug of dark coffee resting between my palms. The steam drifted up, warming my chin. On the polished glass dining table behind me sat the freshly sealed court documents: Chloe had been formally arraigned at dawn, held without bail alongside Marcus, while Victoria Vance’s legal team had officially signed away her final corporate proxies in exchange for avoiding federal conspiracy charges.Every enemy who had tried to steal my

Claimed by My Ex’s UncleChapter 19: The Iron GatesThe wrought-iron gates of the Vance estate in the Hamptons didn’t open with a sleek automated glide. They groaned under the weight of rusted hinges, moving slowly like the jaws of a trap that hadn't seen a welcome guest in months.Beyond the gates, the gravel driveway was choked with dead pine needles and ocean mist. Once the undisputed epicenter of New York’s elite summer circuit, the estate now looked like a monument to a fallen empire.The heavy black SUV rolled to a stop outside the stone portico. The engine purred into a quiet hum before Julian cut the ignition, leaving the cabin wrapped in a heavy, expectant silence.I looked out the window at the towering, dark windows of the main house."You don't have to go in there alone," Julian said quietly. His voice carried that familiar, low rumble, but his eyes were fixed on my face with a watchful, protective intensity. His long fingers rested casually over mine on the leather consol